


phantasmagoria

by Aristocraticbloodlust



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: F/M, sexual fantasies, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 21:51:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19385332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aristocraticbloodlust/pseuds/Aristocraticbloodlust
Summary: She’s his secret little obsession, one that carries itself like a dying corpse inside the womb of his mother to the dream world from daytime fantasies.Leon grows more and more tired from his delusions.





	phantasmagoria

She’s on top of him, feeling everything. And he’s planted his hands into the flesh of her ass, and the back of her thighs. Almost as if he’s hoping to fertilize her in more ways than one.

She looks better in the moonlight. It shows off that blemish-less skin, and highlights the crescent shaped scars that congregate on the left side of her ribcage and various parts of her chest. Such a war torn Goddess; he worships her in the blackness of his bedroom on top sheets that she’s blessed with her essence.

She feels like rainwater in a wine glass. Just like Artemis or Aphrodite. Like a piece of fine art incapsulated in a protective case, dormant inside museums of biblical art and dying culture. No one deserves to look at her, or speak her name. She’s utter starlight. 

He can’t say anything, an out of body experience prohibits that. He wants something to sink his fingers into, but refuses to bruise her elysian tan skin.  
He opts to hold back these displays of carnal pleasure.

Within a moments notice, he’s slipped into a pleasure induced coma. He dispels his seed all over her, tainting her with his warm affection. But he looks up and sees she’s still the superlunary sight he’d hoped she’d be.

Her fingers reach out to brush his amber bangs out of his face. Then they glide down his temple, down to his cherubic pink bottom lip, stroking it. Cherry colored thumb nail prodding it slightly and gently. Coaxing him back into another lust ridden state easily, she hardly has to try.  
She raises him up. Drags him from the dirt to his feet each time. Calculates his worth.

He so greedily wants to roll his baby blue eyes into the back of his skull, but at her words, he strains himself not to. She tells him they’re too pretty not to be seen. He marvels at the compliment. His heartstrings are the easiest instrument to play.

She’s closing in on him. Clenching, tightening, strangling him. His heart racing, pacing, running away from his ravenous Goddess.  
It’s the last part of him that attempts to resist.  
The last part that tries to defy her enlightenment on his better judgment. Futile and pathetic. Even for his standards.  
Then she undulates. Moaning his name like a saint. It sounds like a psalm, flowing out of her like a rush of fresh crimson exiting a wound. He’s so lucky to have her, to partake in her pleasure. So lucky to share her with the rest of the Earth.  
So lucky to drink from the ocean that breeds new life, and washes up dead carcasses upon the land.  
So lucky to be one of the many flesh and blood sacrifices to sedate her. 

 

The room becomes quiet, then desolate. 

 

This time he really comes to, realizes she isn’t there.


End file.
